


Sure Ain't Kitten Around (temp title)

by Zira



Series: A Host of Snippets [3]
Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe, Altpower, Emma is a Good Friend, Gen, Homelessness, Taylor is a cat, i'm not asking for suggestions on it, that's the full title, the title is a joke and you get to live with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zira/pseuds/Zira
Summary: People think Taylor died in that car crash, but she still pawsitive she is not. It's very lucky she has a furend in Emma, no matter what.
Relationships: Emma Barnes & Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver
Series: A Host of Snippets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573387
Comments: 16
Kudos: 142





	1. Funeral For The Living, Breakfast Time, and Here For You

Taylor watches the funeral from her perch on the tree, claws digging in as she involuntarily puffs up her fur when the wind blows particularly harshly. The three caskets seem especially sad, since she knows one has what is left of her former body, but the truly painful ones are the large ones.

When she last saw what’s inside them alive, they were twisted and broken, but her brief time in the funeral home shows how great of a job they do to fix things up. Still, she tucks her tail around her, and watches silently as the funeral progresses. Her heart does go out to how Anne, Zoe, and Emma cry, Alan looking close to it himself. 

Of course, he should be crying now, since the rain coming down perfectly shows how a funeral should feel. Gram certainly is, huddling under her umbrella, with a thick black shawl over her shoulders. Her only grandparent is closest to the casket, hands clenching around the umbrella’s handle. Taylor can see her white knuckles from here, but her new eyes are so much better than her old ones. 

She watches as the sermon goes on, and as the various people they know bury the bodies. It is only when the last person finally leaves, almost an hour later, she stands up, stretches out, tail long, claws sharp, mouth stretched in far too wide of a yawn, and she… fades away.

Only to fade right back, on top of her tombstone. She can do it fully invisible, but for something like this, it seems… only proper to be fully visible. A big poofy kitty-cat, with black stripes and purple fur. Or is it purple stripes and black fur? No matter, for she is here.

She feels… smarter now than before, but part of her would prefer to think slower if only in exchange for _hands_. While the other part is glad she can think clearly in more horrifying conditions than before.

She hops down next to the freshly turned dirt, not wanting to get mud in her paw pads, and looks at the gravestones. Her mother and father sharing one, and the epitaph talking of how they are missed and loved. While right next to it, there is hers. 

She runs her tongue along her sharp teeth, her voice sounding sarcastic as she reads aloud, “Taylor Hebert, beloved granddaughter, dear friend, taken before her time. … Well, not quite.” 

She reaches over, and scratches lightly at the side of the gravestone, which doesn’t give at all. She huffs softly, and then _pushes_ at it with the sort of mental not quite but almost hands she has in her head, and it doesn’t even give. 

Sticking her tongue out at it, she huffs, “Try to make a dramatic action, and I’m upstaged by a stone. Perhaps I’m better off leaving you unturned.” She barely notices scraping her hindlegs in the grass as she walks off, shaking them before she says, “Rude.”

She fades away again, this time to invisibility, and keeps walking. She can just teleport, yes, but sometimes, it is best to do something more physical. Besides, watching her loved ones mourn her death when she isn’t at all isn’t her idea of a good time, but something she had to do. Probably not too healthy for her head, either, but whatever.

If there’s a body to bury, she doubts any adult is going to believe she is who she says she is. She would have already told Emma, but her best friend has been …busy. Crying, mostly, but almost always with her parents or older sister.

And besides, who wants some… mangy cat around claiming she is who she is? 

No, she’ll go tonight, or maybe tomorrow. Or… perhaps the first night Emma sleeps in her own room, she will meet with her best friend. 

She fades away, going in search of something to eat. She’s hungry, and she knows some supermarkets are closed right now. They may be locked, but that’s not a problem when all she has to do is figure out where she wants to be, and she’s there.

\--

Taylor blinks awake from where she’s asleep on the overstuffed chair in the library as the lights turn on. Stretching out, she huffs and shakes a little as she fades into invisibility. Hopping off the chair, she pads over to where the librarian is starting things up, and casually climbs onto where the returns are in the back. 

Pawing through them, she hums softly, finally tugging out where some jerk put in some trash. Making sure she has it all, she fades to where the trashcan is outside, she places the garbage inside of it, and starts walking off.

It is time for breakfast, and she knows exactly what she wants.

Pancakes.

She fades into a twenty-four hour restaurant, and pokes her head against the cook, “I’m starving.”

The man looks down at her, and blinks, “Uh… huh. Looks like Lou wasn’t actually high when he said that there was a purple cat who likes breakfast here.”

She looks up at him, tilting her head, “Feed me.”

“Am… _I_ high?”

“Your feet seem to be firmly on the ground, so I wouldn’t think so. I want two small pancakes, and the blueberry syrup.”

The man looks down at her, shrugs, and pours the batter to make her the pancakes. “The waitstaff have the syrup, kitten.”

She frowns up at him, but doesn’t argue. Moving so she's out of the way as they work, she watches as the waitstaff call out their orders, and sniffs the air when she smells something particularly delicious. Unfortunately, as nice as the idea of bacon is, she knows she’s less likely to get it. A cook in Brockton Bay thinks pancakes for the weird cat is funny. Bacon means they pay more attention. That might change the more she’s here, but she isn’t willing to test it at the moment.

But when he gives her both pancakes, she’s just thankful the man puts them on a plate for her, and she can catch it with her telekinesis. She’s happy she’s now reading in the library at night and can look things up. Like names for what her power of picking things up without hands is called. Before, she knew it was telepathy or telekinesis, but now she knows for certain how one is impossible, and the one she uses is something some parahumans actually have.

Fading away, she tucks her plate on an out of the way shelf in the dining area before nabbing the syrup and a fork. Time to see if her not there hands are doing better today and she doesn’t need to shove her face into the food, getting it all over herself. Sure, she can use her spit and her telekinesis to clean it off her, but it’s not her idea of a good time.

Her telekinesis is awkward as she carefully pours the syrup onto the pancakes, and as she cuts them into bite sized chunks, but actually feeding herself is easy once she abandons the fork and just uses her power to shove the food in her mouth. 

Her stomach is full, and she deposits her plate, fork, and syrup on a dirty table before returning to the hidden shelf. Curling up, she settles in to just digest and watch the people eating and talking. It’s nice to just… watch people, sometimes. Even if part of her is… incredibly tempted to drop a fake potted plant on top of a nazi’s head. 

She watches as he insults the nice black waitress, and calls her a nasty name. 

Eh, she’s invisible, not like anyone can _see_ her. 

Unfortunately, there’s no convenient shelf above the man, so she must do this the more annoying way. 

Which is to fade under his table, and open her mouth slowly. Unable to resist, she also allows her eyes and mouth to become visible. Sticking a single claw into the man’s jeans, he jerks a bit, and peers under the table, saying, “What the fu-”

He doesn't end that, since she bites him, very firmly, and fades out once he screams. 

Fading back into the kitchen, she rubs against the cook, and when he looks down, she smiles at him. “There is an angry man out in the dining area. He was harassing a waitress. If at all possible, do make sure that she isn’t blamed for anything.”

With that, she winks, and fades out, going from the tip of her tail and working her way up to her grin last.

\--

Taylor sits outside of Emma’s bedroom window, wondering if her best friend will _finally_ sleep there tonight. As nice as the libraries are, they aren't a home, and she can’t exactly… talk to anyone. Oh, she talks to people, but they mostly assume she’s fake, or a monster. A few say she’s a cape, but… she doesn’t know about that.

Maybe?

What she does know, is that she is a cat. A cat who desperately wants to be with her very best friend, to be in arms that hold and hug and love her, and to be able to talk to someone. Even if she can’t say much more than sarcasm and dry jokes. Her tone of voice is unable to do more than that. She suspects it is her vocal cords and the way her tongue is shaped now, but the books in the library aren't exactly clear, and it isn’t like she can know that without something to scan her. Looking in the mirror doesn’t help her know the shape of her throat from the inside.

She sighs sadly, dragging a claw on the glass. It doesn't really do much, since all she has are kitty paws, but she feels better for it. Makes her feel more like a sad kitten wanting in, so she says, “Meow, meow. Where is my Emma, when her kitty-cat needs milk and cream? Will she be forever unwanted and alone? Oh, woe is the poor kitty, starving, lost, and-” She cuts off as Emma actually comes into her room, and closes the door behind her.

Emma blinks, looking at her, then back at her closed door, and slowly walks over to her window, “What a weird looking cat.”

“Emma!” Taylor perks up, pawing at the window. “Let me in! Let me in!’

Her best friend frowns, but walks over, opening the window. “Hey, cat. I could have sworn I heard you talk.”

“Emma!” she hops up and down on the other side of the screen excitedly, “It’s meeee! Taylor! Let me in, let me in!”

“Taylor!” Emma almost screams, and starts to rip at her screen window, “Taylor!”

Squeezing into the hole, shakes her fur out on the other side. “Why didn’t you just open the screen like a-”

Her friend scoops her up, and Emma holds her close, hugging her and crying while repeating her name over and over. Taylor relaxes, knowing how much she wants very much to do the same, but very little tears come from these cat eyes. 

They eventually end up in Emma’s bed, her in her best friend’s arms, and said best friend sniffling softly, but smiling. “You’re not dead,” Emma says.

“I…” She does not have shoulders to shrug, so she just leans against Emma’s chest, “I may as well be, Emma. I crawled out of the chest of the body that used to be me, and no adult would say I am who I say I am.”

“But they have to! Have you _tried_?”

“I told a police officer, but he did not believe me. He accused me of… of being the one who killed me and my family, Emma.” Not something she wants to think about. Especially since they did swerve to _miss_ a cat. Now her parents are gone, and she is forever a reminder of how she lost them.

She supposes the only worse thing to be is the very image of a twisted car. 

She blinks a little, and uses her front paws to rub at her eyes. She can cry, the little she’s able, but she does not want to waste them on something she so desperately doesn't want to think about. 

Forcing herself back on track, she bumps her head into Emma’s chin, “But I’m okay, Emma. I just… I couldn’t not inform my very best friend about how rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated.”

“We can tell mom and dad!”

Does she want them to know? They would feel obligated to keep her safe, and would possibly have her go to the PRT. She doesn’t really want that. Legally, Taylor is _dead_. Zoe and Alan have no claim to her, and if the PRT finds out and takes her, she’ll never ever see Emma again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Emma pets her fur, and it is… comforting, so she allows it. Her best friend asks, sounding unhappy, “Why not?”

“When you look at me, do you see any part of me that is the Taylor you once knew?”

“You _sound_ like you, just more… sarcastic. And amused. Like you’re almost ready to tell a mean joke. Which is nothing like how you used to be. And you don’t talk a mile a minute.”

“The crash changed me, Emma. More than just physically. I am... “ She rests her head on Emma’s knee, readjusting how she’s laying to do so, “I’m a cat, Emma.”

“You’re still Taylor, though.”

“Am I? Taylor is dead, and now I’m me, and everything is so confusing. I saw my body, broken and destroyed, just like my parents. My head smashed. You did not see, since mine was a closed casket, worse than my pare-”

“I… Taylor, I saw. I’d… I’d insisted. I said you couldn’t be…” Emma sniffles, rubbing her eyes, “You couldn't be dead. You just… you couldn’t leave me. So… so mom and dad, they said I should see you. Before the casket was closed. And you were all torn up. I just…” 

Emma bursts into tears, and all Taylor can do is cuddle against her. She can’t hug her best friend, only offer fur to absorb the salt water. She finds herself with a few tears of her own coming down her face. It isn’t the loss of her former body, or her life. It is that she can’t comfort the girl closest to her, who is all but her sister. 

So she closes her eyes, and cuddles against Emma as best she can. It tears at her heart, like tiny claws digging in. Her Emma is broken and unhappy, and she is the one who brought her to this. Saying she is back, but things can and will never be the same. Bringing hope, but tearing it down in the same gesture. 

Her paws can not do more than pad at Emma’s lap, and she keeps her mouth firmly closed. She knows, should she lick like she feels a cat should she will hurt Emma irreparably, due to how corrosive her saliva seems to be now. So she keeps her mouth shut, and purrs as much as she can, the reflex kicking in due to her distress.

Emma holds her tighter, rocking her back and forth. She rubs against her, their eyes closed, and all she can truly feel is sorrow. Her life is destroyed, and all she has is Emma. She doesn’t know what she’d do without Emma, but at least she has her. 

She curls even closer, heart sore and broken, but perhaps they will work to mend it together. She doesn’t know about tomorrow, but for now, she’s with her best friend, and that should be enough.


	2. Trying To Reintroduce Herself, Hello Anne, Light In My Eyes

Taylor is invisible as she sits on the back of the couch, waiting patiently to reveal herself. She watches as Emma _finally_ gets the both of her parents to sit down, and shifts a little, keeping herself from digging her claws into the furniture out of nerves.

Emma stands in front of them, saying, “Mom, dad? I have something super important to tell you.”

Taylor can smell the frustration and sadness just radiating off them both in waves. It makes her tuck in closer on herself, and she puts her tail over her nose, only her eyes and ears showing. Well, they would be showing if she were visible, of course. 

“Yes, Emma?” Zoe says, voice strained. 

“Taylor was,” she can see both adults clasp each other’s hand at that, “in my room last night, and she’s here right now.”

Taylor fades back into visibility, and is about to touch them when Alan stands up, saying, “Emma, honey. Taylor is,” his voice breaks, “gone.” He coughs, “She’s gone. I know you miss her, but you saw her body. We all did. She, Danny, and Annette are _gone_.”

“Daddy!” Emma protests, “Taylor is right there, look!” Taylor straightens up as regally as she can when Emma points at her.

Neither adult looks at her, so she cautiously reaches out to touch Zoe’s shoulder, only for her to brush her paw away, almost absently. She tries again, pressing harder, but she almost topples down when the woman stands up, saying, “Emma, _please_. Don’t do this.”

Emma looks at them, then at her, “But Taylor-”

“ _Please_ ,” Zoe’s voice breaks, and she sobs, tucking herself against Alan. 

Alan sounds pained, “You can’t just say she’s here when she isn’t. You’re hurting your mother dearly. I know, all of our best friends are gone in one fell swoop, but wanting them back doesn't mean they come back.”

“Taylor!” Emma exclaims. “Say something!”

Taylor starts to talk, only for Alan to yell, “Emma! Stop that now!” It makes her flinch, and she can’t help how she starts to fade. He’s just… big, and it’s scary, and he’s _yelling_. 

“But Taylor-”

“She’s _dead_ , Emma. Please, don't do this.”

Taylor forces herself to say, “But I _am_ here,” just as they stomp out of the room, looking distraught. She shakes a bit, feeling herself fade even more, and manages to say softly, “I’m sorry, Emma. They wouldn’t look, and then they yelled, and I just….”

Emma sits on the couch, patting her lap. She instantly hops on, relaxing a bit as Emma pets her fur. After a bit, Emma says, slowly, “I don’t think we should try again anytime soon.”

“I’m… I'm willing to try?” She isn’t, not really, but if Emma says they should, they will. She didn’t really want to do it this time, but it makes sense to have parents now about her, even if they want her to go to the PRT. 

Emma pets her right between her ears, “No. We will later on.” 

She closes her eyes, and takes strength in Emma’s warmth.

\--

Taylor looks at the ripped up screen guiltily, “Perhaps, I should have faded in, instead of letting you do this.”

Emma shrugs, pulling out a brush from the plastic bag, “Dad got mad, and said something about how stray cats can be dangerous, but didn’t argue when I told him I wanted some things.” 

Taylor hops into the cat bed, her paws kneading it, “I shouldn’t live here, this is your house.”

“And where _else_ will you live?” Is the hurt reply, as Emma pulls out a blanket, putting it on a second cat bed, this one looking like a small tent frame. 

“I’ve been on my own for the last few days, and I’m fine.” She stretches out a little, and walks over to Emma, sniffing the blanket, “I’ve been reading at libraries and sleeping in them. I like it in there, it’s quiet. And we won’t need to worry about your parents freaking out about a mutated cat.”

“So sleep invisibly.”

“I can’t control that, you must remember how upset you were when you saw me half faded and half there,” she reminds her. 

That gets a deep blush, “I just… forgot you can do that, is all.” Emma places the tent bed over on the side of her desk. “How’s this?”

Fading over to it, she lounges with a paw hanging off as she lays in the bed, “It’s nice. I like the purple, even if it isn’t… exactly the correct shade.”

A roll of the eyes, and Emma says, “I couldn’t exactly get a dark purple without being asked why. Besides, the fleece blankets only came in pink or purple, so I grabbed what fit best.”

Taylor rolls onto her back, “Thank you for this.”

Emma pets her belly, “You’re welcome, Taylor.” 

She watches Emma pull out a bowl, saying, “Nope. I’m still a _person_ , Emma. I eat people food.”

“And how do you drink water?”

“Mostly, I just use the library’s water fountains. Just like I use their bathrooms.” She won’t poop in a box. Gross. “I also get food from various restaurants, since I have a pretty sweet deal there.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I go to various kitchens, and tell the cook to feed me.”

“And they do?”

“They do,” she nods smugly, rolling back onto her belly to do it properly. “Since I don’t eat a lot anymore, it works out fine. Pancake in the morning, maybe two if I’m especially hungry. Some hamburger at night. I’m fine.”

“You need more than just that, Taylor.”

She fades a bit, hiding, “Nope. I’m fine.”

“Taylor! You know you need to have different meals every day! It isn’t healthy-”

“Nuh-uh,” she mumbles, fading entirely.

“Taylor! What are you _doing_?!? You’ll get sick and-!”

The door slams open, Anne hurrying in, “Emma! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Emma stares at her sister for a long moment, finally saying, “Anne, do you want to know something super important?”

Anne looks at Emma, and then her shoulders droop, “This about Taylor? Mom and dad told me that you think she’s still alive. You can’t say things like that when they’re hurting so much, tiny.”

Emma shakes her head, “I’m telling the truth, though. Taylor, show her.”

Anne sighs, and drops onto the bed, tugging Emma down with her, and loosely wrapping her arms around her, “I know you miss her, but we can’t just pretend she’s still here.”

Taylor fades back in slowly, “Actually-”

Anne screams, jumping up, and making Emma fall to the ground, “Holy shit! What the _fuck_!”

Staring at Anne, Taylor says cautiously, “I’m not dead. I just… I’m different now.”

Anne stares down at her for several seconds before flopping on the bed, “What the actual fuck?”

“No cursing,” Emma moans, climbing up from the floor. “You know you’re not supposed to curse.”

“In front of you, maybe. Gonna tattle?”

Emma shakes her head, sitting back on the bed, “No, I’m not. But do you believe me about Taylor _now_?’

“I don’t even know what to think. What the…?”

Taylor gets up from the tent bed, and hops onto the bed, “Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated. See?” She starts to rub against Anne, only for the girl to pull away. 

“I’m allergic to cats,” Anne reminds her, then turns to Emma. “I bet mom and dad let you get this,” Anne waves a hand at the cat beds, “saying that if you had a stray cat coming into your window, it had to _just_ be through the window and your room.”

That gets a nod, “Yeah. I just… I can’t not let Taylor come in, you know.”

Anne stands up, rubbing her eyes, “I should go take a shower, since I don’t know how badly I’ll react. If you want, I can tell mom and dad Taylor’s a cat now, but I doubt they’ll believe me. Have you tried showing them?”

They both nod, Emma saying, “Taylor was gonna show them her fading trick, but then dad started yelling and we got scared, so….”

Anne sighs, “Yeah. I get it. Maybe when they’re not so upset. I’ll tell them if they ask, and say I’m cool with you having a stray cat in your room. It isn’t like Taylor will try to get into my room or whatever. Just please don’t go into the main areas too often?”

“I’m not,” she says. “I have other places I can go, don’t worry.”

Anne gives her a sympathetic look, “Maybe talk to the PRT? They know how to deal with capes that had their powers change their bodies. I’ll need to look up what exactly they’re called, but know you’re not alone, okay?”

“Of course not! I have _Emma_.”

“Not what I meant, brat.” Anne looks at them, “I’ll make sure mom and dad don’t get upset when Emma brings up extra food for you, but I need to go take a shower.”

“Thanks, Anne,” Emma says, getting up to hug her, only for Anne to bring up her arms to ward her off.

“No hugs, you got cat fur all over you. Get a cat fur remover for your clothing on your next trip out, alright?” At Emma’s nod, Anne leaves, the door closing with a gentle click.

Emma and Taylor are silent for a long moment, and finally, Emma says, “Mom and Dad won’t ever believe you’re alive, will they?”

“Uh… maybe?”

“If Anne doesn’t think so, I can’t. She’s way better at guessing how they feel than I am.” Emma sighs, and walks over, scooping Taylor up, and hugging her, “I’m sorry, I’m doing my best, and it still isn’t any good.”

“You’re fine,” she says, wishing her voice wouldn't constantly drawl. “I’ll be fine.” It makes her sound like she’s lying, when she’s not. “It will be okay.” No matter how much she wants to comfort her best friend, it makes her seem like she is insulting or uncaring.

Emma holds her tighter, and they sit there in silence.

\--

Taylor blinks awake from where she’s napping on a bookshelf at the sound of the door opening. Glancing at the window, she frowns. It’s… the middle of the night? She thinks? It’s kind of hard to tell with the streetlights and so on. 

She fades from the bookcase to closer, still invisible, and peers at the door. A car is parked out there, lights shining into the library, and someone is walking in through the sliding door. She tucks herself firmly under a chair, but where she can still easily see them, and watches with squinted eyes to reduce the glare. 

The person’s steps are light, and when they step out of the blaring lights, she can _finally_ see it is Miss Militia. Weird.

Miss Militia calls out, “Hello? We’ve been getting reports of a parahuman possibly breaking in. We’d like to let you know we only want to talk.”

… how? She’s been very careful. Just reading books, and sleeping. Mostly. She gets thirsty and everyone uses the toilet, okay? She isn’t sure how she was found out, since she leaves no trace. She is the very epitome of secrecy.

“Look, I know it seems scary, but the PRT is supposed to deal with parahumans. If you’re homeless, then we can get you to safety. A home, a bed, three square meals a day. If you aren't sure what you eat, we can give you what you need. Please, stop hiding.”

Taylor cautiously steps out, unfading slowly, and walks cautiously towards Miss Militia. When there’s a sound coming from her com, saying, “Behind you.” She instinctively fades back to invisibility, fur puffing up. 

Miss Militia touches her ear, “I don’t see anything.”

If Taylor didn’t have cat ears, she likely wouldn't be able to hear as the com says, “It looked to be a black cat that turned invisible before you turned around. Keep talking to him.”

“Ah, are you okay?” Miss Militia calls. “We can talk, and-”

Taylor hops onto one of the computer desks, not hiding her noise, “Turn off that horrible light. Hurts my eyes.”

“Where are you?”

She tucks behind the divider, “Here.” She fades back into visibility very cautiously, “Here.”

Abruptly, a flashlight is _right in her face_ , and she scrunches up, fur puffing, hissing unhappily. The light moves off her face, and Miss Militia says, “Oh… hello.”

She scowls, “Rude.”

The woman waves at the car, and the lights turn off, _finally_. The flashlight, however, is still on, at least it is still to the side and only on her body. “I apologize. I wasn’t expecting… you to look how you do.”

She tucks her tail around her legs, “What did you expect?”

“Someone a bit more… humanoid, but don’t worry, we can help you. We at the PRT know how to help case fifty-three’s like you.”

She stares up at the woman, “And what would a case fifty-three be?”

“Any non-human looking parahuman. What you are. You’re cat shaped, but you have a clearly human mind. Don’t you?”

“I suppose.” She looks away, “I am a cat.” She kneads her paws nervously, fading slightly, “I guess.”

“You guess?”

She refuses to look at the hero out of embarrassment, “Yeah. I guess. I am now.”

“Oh! Do you remember what you were before? Where you were or-”

Taylor stops listening, feeling like she’s back in the car, in the twisted remains of her body, and how she had to claw- 

She hisses and claws at Miss Militia, feeling the woman’s hand on her back, “Don’t touch me!” She freezes, smelling more than seeing the blood she’s drawn, and she sobs out, “Sorry.” She fades away entirely, fading back on top of the library, entirely invisible. 

She shouldn’t have attacked Miss Militia, but now she’s done it and it’s the _worst_. It feels worse than if she’d attacked Armsmaster, since poor Miss Militia doesn’t have gloves or anything to protect her. She rests her head on the top of the wall, staring down as she watches the PRT troopers freak out. 

She can hear Miss Militia call for her from inside the library, but she can’t stand it. She knows that she’ll be hurt for it. Capes who hurt a hero are villians. She doesn’t think of herself as a villain, but she attacked a hero. A big hero. 

One of the original Wards, hero. 

Her heart aches again, and she stares down at them. She can see as Miss Militia comes out, saying something that’s carried away in the wind as she gestures to her bloody hand, lit up brightly by the flashlight in a trooper’s hand. She’s taken away in the car, and more of the troopers search around. She flinches when the light passes over her, but only leaves when she can hear them taking out a ladder, clearly intending to search the roof.

She fades away, and fades into a new library. This one is in a high school, so she is certain people won’t notice what is going on. She’ll avoid that library for awhile, and just hang out in different ones sometimes. 

Maybe she’ll join Emma in school. As nice as being away for awhile, she is very bored, just doing little to nothing all day. Sleep is well and good, but where is the draw when all she can do is that or stare at nothing?

She’ll figure something out, but, for now, she can curl up on top of the cushioned office chair, and wait until morning with a book. She just needs to figure out _which_ book. It isn’t like the librarian won’t put it away when she’s gone. They always do.


	3. Power Testing, Perhaps Patrol?

Emma taps at her laptop on the desk as Taylor sits in her lap, reading with curiosity. “So, you have acidic saliva, and you can teleport, and you have telekinesis.”

“Yes, and I have all things associated with being a feline, as well. I’m graceful, elegant, beautiful, and-”

“And very modest,” Emma says dryly.

“I’m the epitome of modesty. With my long fur, and adorable whiskers. Look at how lovely my claws and smile are, they will make anyone melt.”

“If you spit on them,” comes the laughing reply. Emma hugs her, “Remember, you’re not just a cat, Taylor. You’re a person, and that means that you don’t have to just act like a talking cat at all times.”

She bumps her head against Emma’s chin, “Maybe, but I do enjoy it in its own way.”

That gets another laugh, and Emma replies, “Okay, but powers!”

“Yes.” Taylor hops to the ground and stalks on the floor in her best model walk, head high and smile large. “What of them?”

“We’ll need to test them, of course. See what all you can do.”

“Okay, what should we test?”

“How about the fade first?” Emma stands up, walking in front of her mirror, “See if you can turn me invisible along with you.”

She fades from the floor to Emma’s shoulder, then closes her eyes to concentrate on fading Emma into invisibility. Opening her eyes, she can only see Emma in the mirror. She hums, “Allow me to try again.”

She fades back to visibility, and this time she watches as she fades away, forcing it to go from her head to the tail, and trying to make it work down Emma. It… doesn't work at all.

Emma pets her softly, “It’s okay. Sometimes, things just don’t work.” As Taylor fades back, Emma says, “We’ll try acid spit when we’re outside. Maybe in an isolated park after a general test in the backyard. I have a basket for you on my bike.”

“Or, I could fade there.”

“But you can’t fade me there, can you?”

She frowns, and fades to the other side of the room, concentrating on taking Emma with her. And it… works? 

She’s dislodged from Emma’s shoulder as her friend tumbles down to the floor, and curls up looking haunted. She carefully sits in front of Emma, touching her lightly with a paw, “Are you alright, Emma?”

Emma stares at her for a long time, and Taylor is wondering if she’s going to have to go find Anne, and hope she’s just forgiven for going into the older girl’s room. She stands up, and is about to inform her friend what she’s going to do, when Emma finally says, “I don’t like that.”

“What _happened_?” she impores, laying in front of Emma’s eyeline, and touching the other girl’s nose with a soft paw. “Are you okay?”

“I just… that hurt.”

Shrinking back as small as she can, she asks, “Would you like me to leave you be?”

Emma shakes her head, so Taylor moves closer, tucking herself into her friend’s arms. They lay like that for long enough for Taylor to fall into a light dose, when Emma finally sits up. Taylor scrambles a little as she’s moved, but relaxes as Emma says, “That sucked.”

“I… I won’t do it again.”

“If it’s an emergency you will. It’ll suck, but I’ll take the pain, and terror, and cold, and….” Emma kind of trails off,shivering and staring blankly at the wall. Taylor can’t see what the other girl is looking at, but that’s not surprising. It’s clear Emma is more focused inward than anything. Taylor jumps when Emma unexpectedly says, “How about we work on your telekinesis?”

“Okay.” She hops off, landing lightly on the floor. “Where do we do this?” 

Emma shakily walks to the closet, and by the time she gets to the door, her gait is back to the smooth model perfect walk she’s working on using all the time. She comes back out, dragging a bag, “I have some weights we can use.” The bag is put in the center of the room, and Emma opens it up. 

Hopping next to her, Taylor peers in. It’s just various metals and plastics, all labeled with weights. “How’d you get this?”

“Dad had them in his closet, and assumed I wanted to start working out when he asked.”

“You probably should. I know you, and you’re gonna want to go fight crime with me, even if I’m not planning on doing so myself.” Even if it is cool. Maybe she will, if the testing works out. She can go invisible and teleport. That means something, for certain. She just doesn’t want Emma hurt, too. Even if she knows she’ll want Emma to be with her if she gets serious about it. But… she also has serious doubts, too.

Emma starts to protest, then slumps, “I guess.” Sitting straighter, she says, “Look, we _should_ fight crime if you have powers! Just imagine it!”

She _can_ imagine it. Miss Militia seeing them, and then arresting them because of Taylor’s earlier freak out and scratching attack. “I’m not fighting crime. I’m just… gonna be a cat.”

“You have _powers_! You can fight! Like Alexandria!”

She shrinks a little into herself, “I… Last night, I scratched Miss Militia. I’m not a hero. I can't be a hero.”

“... oh.” Emma bites her lower lip, thinking, then says, “Well, how about we focus on what we’re supposed to be doing? We can talk about _that_ later.”

“Okay.”

They pull out the weights, and Emma has her work her way from the small two pound hand weight, to the large circle of a fifty pound weight for a bench press. She’s struggling on the last one, but manages to keep it aloft for a good twenty minutes as Emma times her and reads her a few posts to an updated PHO thread. At the twenty minutes, Emma asks, “Does it feel like you’re gonna drop it?”

“No, the hard part was just picking it up.”

“Okay, here, let’s see about the next one.” 

Which she struggles to lift, even worse than before, but the most she can do is stand it on it’s end and hold it there. She whines softly, “I don’t think I can go any heavier than fifty. Not really.”

“Which is still super impressive for a cat!”

She perks up a little at that, “Yeah. That’s right.” She pokes at the first weight with her telekinesis, “What was the next test?”

“Can you pick up more weight than that just by holding something then piling other things on the one item you’re holding. Here.” 

Emma pushes a pizza tray to her, and she holds it easily. It gets progressively harder the more weight is piled on it, and when she has more than fifty, it falls down heavily. Both of them freeze, staring at the door, only for nothing to happen. 

Taylor laughs nervously, “Right. It’s just your sister home and she knows we’re power testing.” 

That has Emma laughing with her, just as nervously before she says, “I hope we didn’t fuck up the floor.”

“Emma,” she chastises lightly.

That gets a grin, “You can say it, too.”

“... Fuck.” 

They both burst into significantly happier giggles, secure that they’re getting away with being bad. While getting away with it together makes it even better.

Taylor helps Emma put the weights away, saying, “So, I can't carry more weight. What’s the next test?”

“Can you pick yourself up? You’re less than fifty pounds, so why not try?”

She makes a gameful try of it, but it doesn’t actually do anything. “No?”

Emma wiggles the pizza tray, and she climbs onto it, picking that up to carry herself. It works. She moves the tray around, and she looks down at Emma from near the ceiling. Emma stares up at her, “And now you have another mover rating.”

“What’s my teleportation?”

Emma shrugs, “I don’t know. It all seems pretty nerdy, labeling these things with a number. I’m sure we’ll find out eventually, but I’ll need to research that.” Emma frowns, “How far away can you teleport, anyway?”

“I’ve… never tested it. I can think about it later?”

“Well, let’s try now. What the furthest place you’ve been to from here?”

“One of the highschool libraries? I also hang out on the roof sometimes, and in the language classes.”

“Why go to classes when you can just goof off?”

“Because it is _really_ boring when you have nothing much to do? I’m not big on television, but reading is a little more awkward than you’d think. That’s why I read at night, so no one can just see a propped up book with moving pages. People don’t yell about ghosts, they yell about capes.” She lands on the bed, pushing the pizza tin to the side.

“Oh. Huh, why don’t you come to school with me?” Emma pouts at her, then carefully picks her up, holding her close.

“I do sometimes. I can sit in your lap next time if you want?” She rests her front paws on one of Emma’s shoulders, leaning against her and purring a little as she strokes her back.

“I think I’d like that.” 

“Then I will.”

“Awesome, let’s go test your acid spit.”

She sighs, but doesn’t protest as she’s carried out to the backyard. Which starts with her dissolving some chalk, and finally ending with her pitting a metal spoon. She pokes at the no longer bubbling rock, “I don’t think I should spit on a human, and should probably not keep biting Nazis when they upset me.”

Emma puts her hands on her hips, looking down at Taylor, “What are you _talking_ about? Bite every Nazi. Forever. They’re nature’s acceptable target.”

She pauses, remembering her mother’s rants, “Right, right. What was I even thinking? I will keep biting racists and sexists, just like mom would want me to.”

“Exactly!”

“Dad would probably want me to brush my teeth after, but I think I’d melt the toothbrush.” She looks at the destroyed spoon, “It’s… probably a good thing I’ve given up on using silverware.”

“Does food taste any different?”

She shakes her head, “No. Seems the same to me.”

“I did some research, and it said cats can’t taste sweets.”

She tilts her head, disbelievingly, “I can.”

Emma shrugs, and changes the subject, “Teleportation.”

She sighs, “I don’t… really want to test that? It’s daytime, and I may be able to show up invisible, but if someone bumps me, they’ll know I’m there.”

“Really?”

She turns invisible, and walks over, rubbing against Emma’s legs, tail tall. When Emma picks her up, she says, “ _Really_.” 

That has Emma sigh softly, “Okay, back inside. Time to talk about scratching.”

She groans dramatically as she’s carried in, “I don't wanna, Emma. I scratched her because she touched me and I didn’t want to be touched.”

Emma heads to the living room couch, “And why don’t you want to be touched? You let me pet and hold you all the time!”

“We promised Anne we’d sit in your room for testing, Emma,” she distracts, fading to escape from the conversation even faster.

She can hear a, “Taylor!” come from downstairs, but she doesn’t move from where she’s laying casually in her cat bed. 

She’s always been in her cat bed, and no one can prove otherwise. That’s how she looks. Been here for _years_. Teleportation? She doesn’t know her.

There’s the sound of running up the stairs, and Emma rushes in, looking around frantically, only to sag at the sight of her. Relief is evident in Emma’s voice, “I thought you’d run off.”

“I never moved,” she says smoothly, feigning disinterest. “Why are you all in such a bother?”

Emma shakes her head sitting next to her, and petting her ears, “You could leave, and I’d never ever find you again. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you, Taylor. I had to sleep in Anne’s bed as I cried when I thought you and Aunt Rose and Uncle Danny were dead. I can’t ...”

Taylor stands up, rubbing her face on Emma’s to absorb the tears into her fur. “No, I won’t leave. Not like that. You know I’m alive, and so does Anne. I won’t ever forget that you’re my family, and I won’t ignore how I’m Taylor.”

Emma holds her close, still crying softly, “Then don’t run away from me like that. I love you. You’re practically my sister, and I lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she says, knowing her chest is tight with her own unshed tears. “You will just have to live with me showing up when you don’t expect it, or even when you do.”

“You better.”

“I will.”

\--

Taylor sits on top of the thin sheet of metal and floats above an angry white man with a swastika tattoo on his bald head. She doesn’t even bother remaining entirely invisible, just her eyes and mouth showing. The man pulls a knife, advancing on a pair of men who are also white. Taylor waits patiently as the nazi screams slurs at the men, ones that Taylor knows are immensely impolite, so she leans over when the man starts to wave a pipe. 

Letting her drool drip down, it hits the pipe with a soft hiss. 

There’s a bit of a pause, then the man looks up, staring at her, “What the fuck is that?”

She flicks her tail, then just spits at the man, making sure to hit the leather he’s wearing. It burns into it, and he yelps, yanking it off and throwing it to the ground. He starts screaming at her, but she looks at the two he was menacing, “I’d leave, if I were you. I can take care of him, but you certainly can’t.”

When the nazi tries to grab them, she moves a bit closer on her sheet of aluminum, and opens her mouth letting him see how it drips in clear warning.

When the two are gone, she says, tone dry, “If I catch you again, I will hit one of your tattoos. If you’re lucky, it won’t be the one on your head.” Not that she’ll actually do that. It seems like an easy way to murder someone. But he has several on his arms, and she might be nice and only hit his left one, since he looks to be a righty. “Now leave.”

He grabs his ruined jacket and bolts from the alley. She fades into invisibility, and follows after him. Maybe he’ll lead her to a nazi headquarters or something. Maybe she’ll find Kaiser!

What will she do if she finds Kaiser? 

…there’s a payphone somewhere, and she knows the PRT hotline is free. She’ll tell them. _She_ sits on a metal plate to fly around when she doesn't want to be invisible. That’s a sure way to be skewered by a nazi. No thanks. Let someone being paid to do it be the one to get stabbed.

She’s far enough up that no one is really going to notice said chunk of metal, but her being invisible does help. Her eyes and teeth catch light really well, so much so they seem to glow in low light. Her claws, too. A spooky sort of yellow, usually. She’s seen them go green a few times, but that’s rarer.

But mostly, only fliers will notice her, which is… Not good if Purity shows up, but otherwise just fine. As long as Taylor sees her first, and she should with how bright the woman looks, she can fade to a different location easily enough. She can take her tray with her, even if it is a bit harder. It isn’t as hard to do as taking a person, so it just means that she won’t lose her access to flight.

The nazi just goes into a bar, and a glance in the windows just makes it seem like a normal place? She can go in, but… she’s been in bars before. Unless there’s some secret underground she will magically know about by walking in, she can’t exactly do anything. And they’re smoking in there. Gross.

She’s not gonna go in and smell like cigarette smoke, thanks.

Unfortunately, that seems to be it for patrol. It’s either stake out a gross bar, or fly around what looks like pretty empty streets.

As such, she chooses to fly to one of her libraries and keep an eye out for danger. Nothing actually interrupts her, so she mentally shrugs, and stashes the pizza pan on the roof before fading inside. She hums softly as she pads on the carpet, looking around to see if anything is wrong, then hops onto the comfy chair tucked in the back. 

She can take a bit of a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all there is of this one for now. I’m debating on one of the other shorter ones, or one of my new longer fics next. If you have any opinions, do tell me. I’m not likely to update older fics at this point in time, so please do not ask for that.


End file.
